Cover Reveals

Today Leigh Statham and Month9Books are revealing the cover for THE PERILOUS JOURNEY OF THE MUCH TOO SPONTANEOUS GIRL, book 2 in THE PERILOUS JOURNEY OF THE NOT SO INNOCUOUS GIRL Series! Which releases October 11, 2016! Check out the gorgeous cover and enter to be one of the first readers to receive an eGalley!!

Hereâs a message from the author.

Why I love the cover: Hello, GOGGLES! I love how artist Christel Michiels captures Marguerite's amazing fashion sense and tech gadgets. Plus this cover, like the first, is just the right mix of danger and fun. Who doesn't love leather gear cuffs and a good tophat?

On to the reveal!

Title: THE PERILOUS JOURNEY OF THE MUCH TOO SPONTANEOUS GIRL (THE PERILOUS JOURNEY OF THE NOT SO INNOCUOUS GIRL #2)

Lady Marguerite Vadnay and her trusty automaton, Outil, have settled into life in New France rather well. Marguerite is top of the class at flight school and her future as an aerpilot is nearly secure. She has everything she wantsâ except a commission on the pirate hunting dirigible The Renegade. Using every card in her aristocratic arsenal, Marguerite wiggles her way onto the finest warship France has to offer. But as usual, Margueriteâs plans endanger the lives of those she holds dearâ only this time no one else is going to save them. As Marguerite and Outil set off on a rescue mission they may not return from, she finally realizes itâs time to reorder her cogs.

This steampunk adventure is littered with facts from The Golden Age of Piracy and follows (not too closely) some of the lives and adventures of the brave men and women who sailed the seas as privateers, pirates and soldiers.

Leigh Statham was raised in the wilds of rural Idaho, but found her heart in New York City. She worked as a waitress, maid, artist, math teacher, nurse, web designer, art director, thirty-foot inflatable pig and mule wrangler before she settled down in the semi-quiet role of wife, mother and writer. She resides in North Carolina with her husband, four children, five chickens and two suspected serial killer cats. If the air is cool and the sun is just coming up over the horizon, you can find her running the streets of her small town, plotting her next novel with the sort of intensity that will one day get her hit by a car.
Where you can find Leigh: Website |Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

1 winner will receive an eBook of THE PERILOUS JOURNEY OF THE NOT SO INNOCUOUS GIRL & an eGalley of THE PERILOUS JOURNEY OF THE MUCH TOO SPONTANEOUS GIRL (when available), International.

I shamed my name. I am a whore. I am a disgrace. I’m all the things my mother made me. I wear my badge with pride because I know the truth, and only those worth a damn see me for who I am, not the label I choose to hide behind.

I am a Domme. I would still rather be a whore than a hypocrite like my mother, or a victim like the daughter she raised me to be.

As Mistress Selina, I can bring a grown man to his knees without so much as a crack of my handmade whip. I love the power and control—what’s not to love? I must be mad to even consider Dominant club owner and King of Kink Jason Sinclair’s proposition.

Two Doms don’t make a right.

Self-preservation has kept me at a safe distance from the one man who could change all that. The only man who wields power like a sensual sword and keeps me balanced on that knife’s edge. My choice is simple: He wants me to switch for him. But if I do, will I bleed or will I fall?

Dee Palmer hates talking about herself in the third person so I won’t. My husband had my iPod engraved one Christmas with ‘sing like no-one’s listening’ and I know my family actually wish they weren’t listening because I am, in fact, tone deaf but it doesn’t stop me and this gentle support has enabled me to fulfil a dream. This has been a truly brilliant experience, I wrote The Choices Trilogy back to back and released them this year just one month apart...Don't you hate waiting for the next book in a series? The entire process has undoubtedly been made possible by my incredibly supportive family. I know this is very much an acknowledgment but I know I wouldn’t be writing even this single paragraph if it wasn’t for them so this is about who I am, I am because they let me be.

Jacob Foster knows all too well about living a life of lies and deceit. After a string of bad cases working for the CIA, he’s tired of the undercover world and agency politics. Needing to find himself again, he leaves everything behind to move home. Letting his focus be on helping his sister and her newborn son, he pushes the past behind him. Life goes on, years go by, and he finds normalcy. Roxanne Gilliland knew nothing but the life the ATF created for her from childhood. Following in her father’s footsteps, she’s let the agency direct her world. But there is always the one case that comes along. That one case takes everything and everyone away from her. She moves on—new town, new life, but the threat never leaves her mind. What happens when an old friend lands on her front porch and everyone’s secrets threaten to be exposed? They knew each other as agents. Later, they went from friends to lovers. When Jacob is forced undercover as a fighter to win against the past, is he strong enough to win the match and Roxanne’s heart?

It’s been over seven years and I’m still watching over my shoulder when I go anywhere. I know the make and model of every vehicle in this neighborhood. I have a general idea of what all the neighbors do for a living. I have a security system on this house that would challenge any expert. I still have my chameleon skills. I can blend. That’s why I know he thinks I haven’t seen him. - Roxanne

She laughs. “Really?” She saunters over to me. “So you think because we had a pretty good night in a hotel room forever ago, we should just hook up again?”“First,” I hold up my finger. “It was a great night, don’t deny that.” I hold up another finger, “And second, sure, why not? We’re both free, it’s not like we date.” I run my finger from her collar bone over her nipple and down her stomach. “It’d be fun.”

S.M. Donaldson is a born and raised Southern girl. She grew up in a small rural town on Florida’s Gulf Coast, the kind of place where everyone knows your business before you do, especially when your Daddy is a cop and your Mom works for the school system. She married one of her best friends at the age of 20 and has one son. She is a proud military wife, has always had a soft spot for a good story, and is known to have a potty mouth. At the age of 31, she decided there was no time like the present to attempt her first book. Sam’s Choice was born and she hasn’t stopped since. If you are looking for a good, steamy, Southern set romance with true Southern dialect, she’s your girl.

We have a stunning new cover to show you today - Violet Duke's long-awaited BEFORE THAT NIGHT, which is releasing later this month!

Check out the full cover below and enter to win an awesome $100 gift card!

We are so in love with this cover!

About BEFORE THAT NIGHT

Before that night, Addison Millan had been just a college dropout secretly raising her two young siblings in a beat-up minivan she’d bought with her first semester’s tuition refund—the only money her addict mother hadn’t taken off with when she’d abandoned them the year prior. Before that night, Caine Spencer had been just a rough, gruff cop sent to check out the phoned-in claims of suspected child neglect involving the same woman he’d met a month ago when she’d first served him the city’s worst diner coffee...which he’d been drinking daily ever since. Before that night, Addison would never have thought the man she’d been fighting hard not to fall for—her only friend in her new shadow of a life—would be in a position to rip her family apart. Before that night, Caine would never have believed any woman could make him fall head over heels, let alone make him feel so damn compelled to look the other way when it came to his job. Then that one perfect night changed everything. BEFORE THAT NIGHT (Book 1) chronicles the destiny-altering events that take place seven years prior to EVERY NIGHT WITHOUT YOU (Book 2), Caine & Addison’s emotional story of love, sacrifice, and the lengths one will run—and chase—when their past threatens their future.

Enter to Win a $100 gift card

About Violet Duke

NEW YORK TIMES & USA TODAY bestselling author Violet Duke is a former professor of English Education ecstatic to now be on the other side of the page writing wickedly fun contemporary romances filled with strong, unique heroines and memorably romantic heroes. With just under a million books sold to date, since becoming an author in 2013, Violet has appeared on the USA Today bestseller list thirteen times and the NYT bestseller list three times, with the additional honor of charting in the Top 10 across the major eretailers both in the U.S. and internationally. Her fans, who she just adores to pieces, affectionately call her books sweet & sexy 'laugh & cry' love stories.

When she's not feeding her book-a-day reading addiction, Violet enjoys tackling reno projects with her power tools, trying pretty much anything without reading the directions first, and cooking impossible-to-be-duplicated 'special edition' dishes that laugh in the face of recipes. A born and raised island girl, she spends her days in Hawai'i chasing after her two cute kids (daughter Violet & son Duke) and similarly adorable husband (their ringleader).

The Summer of Lost Wishesby Jessa GabrielleGenre: Contemporary RomanceAge category: Young AdultRelease Date: June 13, 2016

Blurb:
When sixteen-year-old Piper Davenport's mom packs up their lives and heads to the coastal Florida town of Coral Sands, Piper doesn't care much for the view...until she catches a glimpse at Rooks Carter.

Her mom's "look but don't touch" policy regarding the boy next door is all but impossible to maintain, especially since he's helping his dad restore Piper's new home, the Calloway Cottage. A gorgeous, shirtless boy makes this boring little town a bit more exciting.

But after Piper and Rooks discover a secret in the walls of the cottage, they have a chance to unravel the biggest mystery in Coral Sands history - unless someone unravels them first.

About the Author:
Jessa Gabrielle is a young adult author who lives in the land of salt water, palm trees, and sandy shorelines. She believes that summer love is pure bliss and that she was a mermaid in a past life. Her debut, The Summer of Lost Wishes, will be out in June 2016.

Today we are revealing the cover for ANYTHING BUT LOVE by Daisy Prescott. This book is a standalone, romantic comedy, and it is the 3rd book in the Wingmen series. Read below for some news from Daisy, and check out the exclusive pre-order link on iBooks for ANYTHING BUT LOVE!

Anything but Love is the third book in the Wingmen series, a spin off of Modern Love Stories. Like all Wingmen books, it can be read as a standalone romantic comedy.

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BIG NEWS!

WINGMEN is officially becoming its own spin-off of the Modern Love Stories series.

PRE-ORDER EXCLUSIVELY ON IBOOKS

AUTHOR INFORMATION:

USA Today Bestselling Author Daisy Prescott writes romantic comedies with heart. Her Modern Love Stories feature characters in their thirties and forties finding and rediscovering love in unexpected and humorous ways. Her Wingmen books star regular guys who often have beards, drive trucks, and love deeply once they fall. Born and raised in San Diego, Daisy currently lives in a real life Stars Hollow in the Boston suburbs with her husband and an imaginary house goat. When not writing about herself in the third person, Daisy can be found traveling, gardening, baking, or lost in a good book.

When Eliza Rose found out she was a witch, she thought sheâd be casting spellsâ¦

However, it turns out Eliza is on her way to becoming a mystical assassin. But first she has to start college with her best friend Dawn Roberts and her feline familiar Jared. If you think college is stressful, try finding your best friend being seducedânearly to deathâby a venomous fairy. Something is horribly wrong, and Eliza must find out what it is.

Knowing whoâs who in the Mystical world can be a burdenâor save her lifeâ¦

Murderous mermaids, seductive fairies, and manipulative elves are terrifying enough, but pure witches can become corruptâ¦and theyâre the most dangerous creatures of all. Eliza struggles to discover the source of this chaos, but is repeatedly attackedâand saved by a shadowy figure. On a very personal note, Eliza must learn whether corruption is beginning to claim her mother.

Her strongest ally might be handsome, enigmatic Donovanâbut he is hiding a shocking secretâ¦

Donovan wants nothing to do with his old gangânot after the things theyâd made him do. But when he meets Eliza, heâs both frustrated by her amateur skills and impressed by her emerging strength, and he feels compelled to help her grow into the assassin sheâs meant to be.

Every answer has a price, and there are beings born to corrupt the pure.

Eliza fights to master her skills before itâs too late, while Donovan must determine whether Eliza can be savedâ¦or if she must die to keep her out of the hands of those who would use her powers to reign over all of Mystical.

Michael Weekly is a professional writer known for his ability to construct detailed, believable worlds and then to inject them with captivating stories and relatable characters. His big break came three years ago when he started writing on a site called Wattpad. Prior to that, he had written mainly as a hobby and as an exercise in relaxation and meditation, using writing as an escape out of the world and into his own mind.

Writing in the genres of Urban Fantasy, Dystopian YA, and NA, Michael is the author of Mystical, which has earned a ton of positive feedback. Mystical was picked up by Limitless Publishing in 2015, and since then, Michael has been working on additional entries to the series.

When he is not writing, Michael also enjoys playing video games such as League of Legends and World of Warcraft. He enjoys being a shopaholic and a professional foodie. He lives in Virginia with his imaginary fury companion CoCo, where the two live happily.

Twelve year-old Stianâs plans to be The Greatest Viking Ever appear to be over before they even begin. Heâs captured by Dahliaâa dark elf and a girl. If that wasnât bad enough, he discovers he may be the son of Loki, the greatest enemy of the Viking gods and the one foretold to bring about the end of the world.

Knowing he is meant to be extraordinary, Stian decides to discover the truth for himself and free Loki from the clutches of Odin. Only then, will he discover who he is and what he is meant to do.

Stian must out-think, misguide, and defeat Thorâs children. To do this he will need the power of Gramâa sword with magical powers. There is one catch, only one pure of heart with the desire to help others, is worthy of wielding it. If Stian succeeds, he will become the worldâs most famous Viking, but if he fails he will fall victim to the godsâ merciless justice.

About the Author:

Neal Chase lives in San Antonio, Texas, with his wife, two children, two dogs, and a bird, which strangely has the same name as his dad. He is a member of SCBWI and the Writersâ League of Texas. When he is not writing and reading, you can find Neal coaching football or adventuring with the help of his PlayStation.

Five summers have passed since Maelich and Cialia bested Kallum over the Forgotten Forest and scattered the god to the wind. Ouloos is entering an era of peace like none the world has ever known. Or is it? Tragedy strikes. Ymitoth is killed at the hands of dead-eyed men bearing an uncanny resemblance to Kallum’s priests. The loss proves too great for Maelich to cope. His sanity slips and he vanishes. Cialia embarks on a quest to find her lost brother. Along the way she learns her former city, Druindahl, has entered a period of darkness. The people she once protected are at the mercy of mercenaries interested only in coin and presided over by a king powerless to stop them. The cruelty she finds in the hearts of these horrible, false riders of Druindahl is more than she can stand. She finds her flame. The aftermath challenges the very core of her moral beliefs. Meanwhile, war threatens the shores west of Havenstahl. Without the city’s two greatest heroes to protect her, one man must stand up and lead the armies of the greatest city of men against an unstoppable force of monsters from across the Great Sea. Riddled with uncertainty, Daritus must stand tall against overwhelming self-doubt and lead his soldiers into a war more perilous than any in Havenstahl’s history. Ouloos will never be the same.

PROLOGUE

A GOOD DAY FOR HUNTING

It was far too late in the morning to begin a hunt. The sun already flirted with the very pinnacle of its ascent. Before Ymitoth reached the next clump of trees, the bright lord of the sky would be on its slow dive into the Great Sea to swim the dark waters until once again it was time to kiss Ouloos with the light of a new day. A late start didn’t matter much to Ymitoth. The hunt wasn’t really what drew him out of the throne room and into an unfamiliar saddle on an unfamiliar horse. It was the trail he yearned for—fresh air and freedom from the daily squabbles of those who called him king. The road forever beckoned, tugging his attention away from his duties and mundane questions of who did what to whom and why it wasn’t fair. Sadly, the weight of his crown kept him firmly planted within the walls of his great city. Each day the freedom of the trail seemed to slip further and further away, a fond memory slowly fading into the murky obscurity of forgotten loves. The horse shifted awkwardly, reminding Ymitoth of another lost love. Pride was a sturdy, black steed, built for miles on the trail and fast as the westerly wind ahead of a furious storm, but he was no Rumallah. More than merely an ample mode of transportation, Rumallah had been his only companion on many a journey. The king’s heart ached even more for the old horse than it did for the open trail. In sixty summers he hadn’t met a man he trusted more than that animal. If only he could have one more adventure racing over rolling meadows, stooping to drink from the cool waters of a forest brook, and battling fearsome, nightmare creatures from the darkest places where the feet of good folk don’t tread. Alas, even if he could find a bit of freedom to do any of those things, his old friend would remain absent. Nothing could ever fill the empty spot Rumallah left in his heart when he departed this world. “Ye think we’ll be seeing anything for the wall, highness?” a voice from behind tugged him away from his melancholy, another stark reminder he could never be alone on the trail as long as the damned crown of Havenstahl called his head its home. He turned the home for a crown enough to make eye contact with Egete as he replied, “Any life we be taking from the trail be filling our bellies not decorating our walls.” “Forgive me, highness,” Egete’s eyes dropped quickly away from the king’s stern gaze. Ymitoth ignored it. Egete was a solid soldier and a sturdy guard who still managed to wield a downright friendly personality. As far as guards go, he was probably the king’s favorite. He certainly didn’t earn Ymitoth’s sour look. In fact, his statement hadn’t really bothered the king at all. Any words leaving his mouth would have earned a negative response. His presence was what truly bothered the king of the greatest city of men. Not because of anything he had done, simply because the trail and Rumallah were the only company Ymitoth cared to keep just then. In Rumallah’s absence, Pride would have to do. Egete and Scrih—the other guard accompanying Ymitoth on his hunt—were about as wanted as a three-inch thorn in the arch of a tired foot. The taste of sweet solitude on the trail was the one thing Ymitoth hungered for and the one thing he couldn’t have as the king. A brief flash of brown in a dark and familiar clump of trees caught the king’s attention. “Whisht,” something like a whistle without a tongue blasted sharp and quick from his lips as he raised his left arm and nodded toward the trees. Egete and Scrih tugged the reins of their respective horses, halting them immediately behind the king. Ymitoth shot an intense, narrow-eyed scowl in their direction to stifle any words that may have been knocking against the backs of their teeth. The heavy look carried more meaning than anything the king had said since passing through the gates of Havenstahl. After a few moments of startling quiet, disturbed only by the sound of lightly rustling leaves blowing about in the random clumps of trees surrounding the three hunters and the slow rush of waters from the River Galgooth flowing behind them, Ymitoth pointed while nodding at the dark clump of trees. Scrih sat just a notch lower than Egete in Ymitoth’s eyes. They would stand equal if only Scrih had stronger control of his tongue. “I ain’t be seeing nothing there, highness,” he blurted. “Shh,” Ymitoth scolded before shaking his head and whispering, “These eyes have watched me friends toast me sixtieth summer and ye’re telling me they be seeing more than the keen eyes of one so fresh to the trail?” Scrih silently shrugged while Egete added, “I ain’t be seeing nothing either.” “Fine hunting partners the two of ye have turned out to be,” the king shook his head as he raised his bow and knocked an arrow. As he drew his bowstring back and exhaled, Ymitoth’s body relaxed. All the tension tightening up his muscles and hardening his face fled on a current of hot breath. His old eyes scanned the dark clump for the faint flicker that caught them in the first place. Finally, it came again, barely a shape and scarcely a color. He remained frozen in odd, relaxed tension, all but forgetting about the two behind him. His intense focus sharpened and pierced deeper into the darkness beneath the mingling crowns of the trees. To Egete and Scrih he must have appeared stiff and rigid, more like a stone statue or a painting than a real, flesh and blood man. If only he could show them what he was feeling inside. That would be a lesson. They could marvel at the stillness of his form, the absence of even the slightest wobble or twitch as he held his bowstring back. The missing piece of the lesson, what he couldn’t show them or even describe with words, was how completely at ease he felt. Adrenaline pumped no matter how many hunts a man boasted. Experience didn’t stop the heart from racing. That was the thrill of the hunt, and it was always present. Controlling it was the trick. Learning to let your heart pound wild without allowing your body to fumble along behind it is what separates the hungry man from the fed man. He could have remained that way without flinching far into the darkness of night. However, the mighty hunter’s composure crumbled when his target stepped out into the light. Ymitoth shrunk in his saddle like fat melting on a hot stone as three cloaked figures slowly approached from the shadows. Nearly eighteen summers had passed since he faced down the dead-eyed men in the cathedral at Havenstahl, yet his paralyzing fear was as fresh as the day that memory was painted on his brain. “Run,” he could barely hear his own voice as terror squeezed his lungs, only allowing him enough air for a hoarse whisper. Egete and Scrih regarded their king with twisted, queer expressions. After a few moments of struggling with his lips, Ymitoth finally found his voice and shouted, “Run!” “From a mere three men?” Scrih’s expression matched the incredulous tone of his voice. “Damn it, that ain’t no request. It be a command from your king,” the volume of Ymitoth’s voice filled the clearing. “Have ye ever known me to be fearing any man or anything?” “Not in all me days, highness,” Egete shook his head slowly. “Not a chance, highness,” Scrih’s reply quickly followed. “Well I tell ye true lads, fear be tearing at me spine as I be sitting here trembling before ye. Now run, damn it,” Ymitoth’s cheeks shook with the force of his words. “Ye can be punishing me later, highness. But if there be a force in this land so awful as to be scaring the wits out of the bravest man I ever served, I’ll be cutting that terror down,” Scrih shouted as he drew his sword and slammed his heels into his horse’s flanks, driving the animal toward the three cloaked men. Egete fell in right behind Scrih shouting, “Make haste, highness,” over his shoulder. Ymitoth closed his eyes for the briefest moment, “Them boys damn hearts be far bigger than their damn brains.” Despite wrestling with the kind of mind-numbing fear that reduces most men to blubbering fools, duty prevailed. Ymitoth fired three quick arrows before charging after the stout, young soldiers who were so eager to prove their worth. Had they heeded his warning, all three of them would be on a hard gallop back to Havenstahl. The arrows sliced the air one after another, splitting the space between Egete and Scrih. All of them bounced harmlessly away from the dirty, brown cloak they connected with. Confusion knotted up the expression on Scrih’s face as he looked back over his left shoulder at his king. Then both he and Egete came to a halt. Ymitoth stopped directly behind his two soldiers before urging Pride in front of them. “Highness,” Egete complained. “No, lad,” Ymitoth kept his steely glare fixed on the dirty, brown cloak that led the group of three and stood a mere ten feet in front of him, “Ye ain’t be having no idea what ye be dealing with here. I do, and it ain’t nothing less than death.” A low, deep chuckle emanated from the cloak, as the shape beneath it raised both hands to draw the hood back. Ymitoth failed to suppress a gasp. Two black, dead eyes—lifeless orbs that had haunted his dreams ever since he faced the three in the cathedral at Havenstahl—glared at him. The last time he saw those eyes in the waking world had been shortly after celebrating Maelich’s twelfth year. Even after all the years that had drifted by since the terrifying night so long ago, the horrors were as fresh as the breeze upon his neck. As his focus remained locked on those two empty globes, he was only faintly aware of something resembling a smile slithering beneath the orange mange under the twisted nose immediately below them. Ymitoth drew a deep breath in through his nose. There was something foul about the aroma of the wet decay of leaves from the damp ground beneath the trees. Normally he found the scent rather appealing. Staring at the nightmares before him made the odor far less pleasant. Without averting his steely gaze, he growled through clenched teeth, “Race back to Havenstahl, lads. Tell them the king has fallen and a nightmare be coming to batter our gates. Find Maelich, and tell him dead-eyed men be walking about the woods of Havenstahl.” “No, highness,” Scrih’s voice carried a measure of authority. “Aye,” Egete agreed. “We ain’t be going nowhere without ye, highness.” Ymitoth sighed and shook his head, “Lads—” “Such fierce loyalty for their king,” the dead-eyed man goaded. “I am impressed. And king, no less. That is equally impressive. When last we met, you were but a crude swordsman training an insolent brat to swing sharpened metal around. Look how far you have come.” “Aye,” Ymitoth scowled, “a king I be. But I warn ye, this sword at me hip ain’t for show. I swing this lady hanging at me side with vicious intent.” The dead-eyed man’s stillness made the volume of his laugh seem impossible. The horrible sound filled the air around Ymitoth and his guards, startling the horses that stamped and whinnied in response. Much like a cornered animal puffs up its chest in the hopes of frightening off a threatening predator, Ymitoth pressed on, “Ain’t a jest left me lips, ye vile thing.” The horrible laughter ceased as quickly as it began, “Therein lies the brilliance of your humor. It is completely unintended.” The foul creature paused. “I am still not convinced whether you believe your boasts, or if you are merely feigning bravery for the sake of your men. I assume the latter. Even a gruff swordsman parading as king must be wise enough to realize the folly in standing against a herald of the one true ruler of Ouloos, god of creation, and master of all things.” “I fear nothing,” Ymitoth spat as he drew his sword and leapt off Pride’s back with the grace of a warrior half his age. Before the muddy bottoms of the king’s boots kissed even the tip of a blade of grass, Egete and Scrih charged. Hooves tore into the wet trail, tossing muddy clumps of grass up into the air behind them. Ymitoth barely took a step toward the monster before the heavy air beneath the trees thickened once again with the deep horror of the dead-eyed man’s laugh. Like a premonition, the next act danced out on the stage of a brief, waking dream flashing through his consciousness. Before he managed even a step toward the horror threatening his men, the nightmare manifested itself in two pairs of claws shooting out from beneath the sleeves of the other two dirty, brown robes. His feet froze as he helplessly watched his faithful guards dashed against the ground in heaps while their horses—life gushing from throats torn open by sharp talons—rose toward the treetops. “No,” a throaty shout grew from deep in Ymitoth’s gut, filling the air and challenging the might of the dead-eyed man’s laugh. The dead-eyed men paid him no heed. Their leader offered Ymitoth that same silent, snaky smile as his two companions yanked back their hoods and leapt onto the broken piles Ymitoth considered the finest of his guard. The king remained frozen as half of a hand landed near his foot, and the air before him filled with pieces of Egete and Scrih. Mere moments later, lifeless eyes glared up at him from heads no longer connected to the bodies that had carried them around. Their dead stares seemed to accuse him. It was more than he could stand. The warrior charged.

E. Michael Mettille is the pen name of Mike Reynolds. Mike Reynolds is the author of Lake of Dragons and Hell and the Hunger. Mike has also written numerous short stories and poems. He has spent the last twenty years in direct marketing, print, and communication. Mike is fascinated by history, belief systems, the human condition and how all of those things work together to define who we are as a people. The world is a wonder and, based on the history of us, it is a wonder we have a world left to wonder about. Born and raised in Milwaukee, WI, he now lives in Los Angeles with his wife, Shelia.

New neighbors are bad news in Samantha Harper’s experience. Especially ones as suspicious and brooding as the guy who just moved in next door. So when the dangerous but sexy stranger seems to be involved in something illegal—the aspiring cop in her takes action. If only she could stop thinking about how he looks naked...

All DEA agent Ash Cooper wants to do is lay low and survive this crap surveillance assignment. But after a run-in with his attractive neighbor, he realizes that’s going to be much harder than he planned. Keeping the woman out of trouble is hard enough, but keeping his hands off her is near impossible.

COMING SOON!!

He was done. He could take caning across his bare back or bamboo under his fingernails, but he sure as hell didn’t stand a chance against this kind of torture. A man’s resolve was only so strong against a woman like Sam. Telling his subconscious to take a hike, he hitched her leg over his lap. She drew a quick breath, but then settled astride him as if her body was made to fit his. Her legs cradled his thighs, and the center of her heat married flawlessly over his growing erection.Imagining what it would feel like to be buried deep inside her, he shifted to encourage more friction. Her body went rigid, her spine as straight as a damn board, then she relaxed and trailed her hands along every piece of his available skin. Up under his sleeve to his biceps, where she squeezed the muscles; across his chest and stomach; his back.The impression of her touch lasted even after her hands moved on to their next location.His shirt was off in seconds, and he was doing his damnedest to remove hers just as quickly. Would she be upset if he ripped it from her body? It was a mere scrap of fabric anyway.

Christina believes that laughter really is the best medicine, which is why in her stories she blends a healthy dose of hilarious hijinks with gritty suspense.

When she’s not writing fun contemporary romance or quirky romantic suspense, Christina can be found devouring books in every genre, watching Chris Hemsworth on TV, playing board games with her family, working out, watching Chris Hemsworth on TV, napping, watching Chris Hemsworth on TV, and shopping…for Chris Hemsworth’s latest DVD. She lives near Baltimore with her husband and two sons, who give her an endless supply of humorous material to write about. She is a member of Romance Writers of America and Maryland Romance Writers. She is represented by Margarget Bail at Inklings Literary Agency.

She loves hearing from friends and followers, so feel free to send her an email or connect through social media.

About Me

I'm a Texas gal with a wonderful husband, an amazing six year old son, and an adorable newborn baby boy!​My blog is about the best things in life - cooking, books, giveaways and reviews of everyday products! ​This is a PR-friendly blog!!